


hold my heart in your hands

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 21:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: all i really want from you is to feel me, as the feeling inside keeps building





	hold my heart in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt over at tumblr: _something Malex, but with Kyle helping Alex nurse his broken heart after the finale. Only for Kyle to be all boyfriend-ish if Michael comes around_.
> 
> I own nothing except my mistakes. Title and summary taken from _If It Kills Me_ by Jason Mraz. 
> 
> Again, not a single word here would have made any sense without the great beta work done by [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow).

The first time Kyle saves Alex from himself, they are both a bit under the weather after one too many glasses of wine on a Friday night back at the cabin. Kyle has been trying to mend his friendship with Alex, bringing beer and sweet treats for what has now become a weekly tradition of blankets and movies at the refurbished cabin. They are both sprawled on the couch, scooted together beneath a warm blue blanket as the credits of the latest horror movie they’ve agreed on roll by. Alex has spent half the movie with his eyes closed, hiding behind his own hands.

“You still don’t like horror movies that much,” Kyle teases when the last of the credits disappear from the screen. “Why did you pick this one? We could have watched any chick flick you’d wanted.”

Alex laughs a humorless laugh that has Kyle frowning. It’s been a while since Alex has sounded truly happy, and the pain barely concealed in his voice manages to irk Kyle every time. “I thought I’d stomach it for the sake of researching.”

Despite the empty bottle glaring up at them from the coffee table, his words aren’t slurred. Nor are Kyle’s when he replies, “What are you researching while watching horror movies?”

“I wanted to know if I could do on my own something I did with him,” Alex shrugs. “I still can’t watch a horror movie, it seems.”

Kyle holds back a sigh that’s threatening to choke him if he keeps it in his throat any longer. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and thinks for a second what to say. He knows what he wants to _do_ – he wants to punch Michael Guerin in his snarky face until he erases the cowboy swagger from it. Instead, Kyle says softly, “You don’t have to try and make new memories around the things you shared with him. You can make new memories about things that don’t remind you of him.”

“Everything does, these days,” Alex complains, tucking his head into Kyle’s warmth, landing right on the part of his neck that’s been exposed to the cool air. “I just can’t seem to stop hurting.”

Kyle reaches awkwardly out and pats Alex’s shoulder the best he can in the position they’re both sitting at. “Someday, it will. You’ll see.”

“When did you become so wise, Kyle?” Alex asks, voice muffled by the skin of Kyle’s throat Kyle’s own skin, the motions sending a vibration throughout Kyle’s spine. 

“It comes with the degree, I’ve heard,” he jokes half heartedly. Alex doesn’t move away and Kyle doesn’t push any further. Sometime between the screen becoming completely blank and Alex’s breath evening against him, Kyle falls asleep.

The second time Alex needs saving, Kyle barely has time to collect himself before punching something – or someone, given that they’re at the Wild Pony and the broody cowboy getting drunk by the bar is already picking at Kyle’s nerves as he slurs. Guerin’s spoiling for a fight, and if he doesn’t check himself, Kyle will give it to him with all the force that years of training can manage to get in one punch. Alex is sitting at a booth by the far end of the bar with his Air Force friends, back against the rest of the world just in case Guerin tried to do something stupid – something like the stunt he’s trying to pull with Kyle right now.

“You’re wasted, Guerin,” he says derisively as he picks up the beer bottles by the neck. 

“And you’re just playing with Alex,” Guerin manages to slur, spitting beer as he speaks. There’s a half empty bottle of acetone peeking out of his pocket; Kyle wonders how no one has ever noticed before. Maybe it’s true that nobody pays attention to the town lowlife, or maybe it’s just that Michael Guerin is so good at blending in with the humans that he just slips past unnoticed.

“Excuse me now, _what_?” he asks, frowning, as he replaces the six bottles down the counter and faces Guerin, whose eyes are glassy with alcohol and anger.

“I see what you’re doing,” Guerin accuses. Out of the corner of his eye Kyle can see Maria glaring at them from behind the bar, cleaning cloth in hand and a grimace on her lips. “You think you can come back after ten years and chat him up? Cajole him?”

“Says the one who left Alex waiting and all but ran towards his best friend?” Kyle allows himself to retort viciously, words stinging as they spill out of his mouth. “At least he knows I’m not trading him for an easy ride.” He doesn’t care about Maria’s offended yelp by the end of the counter, about Guerin’s hurt stare as he gazes between him and the booth where Alex is laughing with his friends.

Kyle doesn’t give Guerin time nor space for a reply. He grabs the beers again and turns his back on them both, wading through the crowd towards the table. He leaves the bottles on the table with more energy than actually needed, earning himself a lifted brow from Alex as he reaches out to take one of the beers. Kyle doesn’t say anything, and Alex doesn’t call him out, although Kyle is sure that his stunt with Guerin hasn’t been as private as he’d liked it to be. With a last glance towards the bar, where Guerin’s nursing a new glass shot with an added stream of acetone, Kyle allows himself to be bold and scoots closer to Alex in the booth. He throws an arm around Alex’s shoulders and lets his hand hover right over him, barely touching the skin.

He tries to bury deep down in his soul the fluttering that the faintest caress causes when Alex’s fingers find his and circle around them.

The third time, it’s Kyle who needs saving. He’s drowning in Alex’s eyes as they enter a staring match over some petty issue they were arguing about. Kyle doesn’t remember how the argument started, he only knows that looking into the depth of Alex’s gaze feels like jumping into an unknown abyss. And when Alex looks away, huffing about how stubborn Kyle is, a coldness like nothing he’s ever known sweep through Kyle. Suddenly Kyle remembers the reason for yelling and the fight – Guerin has broken up with Maria, or Maria has ended their affair, and now he’s available and ready for Alex to jump into his arms and start over again. Until he shatters Alex’s heart once again and it’s Kyle’s duty to pick up the pieces and unbreak him. Until the only piece of the puzzle that remains unsettled is Kyle’s own heart.

“You can’t just go back to him, Alex,” Kyle tries to reason, his own hands trembling so hard that he has to hide them in his pockets. The motion downplays the intensity he wants to imbue his words, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care he’s coming across as desperate, either.

He’s _despairing_.

“Why not?” Alex counteracts, shifting his weight from his good leg to his prosthetic. “We love each other. We’re family. I owe him to at least try.”

“You don’t owe him shit!” Kyle finally bursts. He can’t take it anymore, the growing feeling of dread that fills him when he realizes that Alex is set on giving Guerin one last chance, another one, to pick at his heart and destroy it as many times as he desires. “Can’t you see it? Why can’t you see it?”

“I love him,” Alex says simply, and he brushes past Kyle, who doesn’t even attempt to stop him now. He just stares at Alex’s back, swallowing around his own unspoken words, burying _and I love you, why can’t you love me back_ down against the darkest corner of his soul. He’s never stood a chance at what Alex has always described as cosmic in his drunken tirades over the months they’ve spent rekindling their friendship.

It hurts when Alex walks away without as much as a hand waving goodbye, getting into his car and driving away towards Guerin. 

He knew he was dancing a dangerous melody. He knew he should have kept his distance. He knew he couldn’t afford the downfall. He knows his soul wouldn’t be able to nurse the bruises from a feeling that’s bound to be his failed destiny.

Kyle falls for Alex, anyway. And waits, and waits, and waits until the night becomes light and he’s left alone in the front porch of a cabin that used to be his safe haven, lonely and bitter.


End file.
